At her college

I actually saw Meg a couple months later. I decided to visit her at college. But she didn’t go to a normal university. She went to an extremely conservative fundamentalist Christian university. One where they had rules about how long students could hug. It felt less like a visit to a college student and more like a clandestine affair.

I pulled into her college town after a long, but gorgeous drive through the October mountains. I checked into a hotel. I wasn’t allowed to stay on campus. At least not with a female student. Then I went to the town’s hopping restaurant to have dinner with Meg.

The Applebee’s was pretty busy. I had to put my name in to wait for a table. I stood waiting when Meg walked in the door. She still looked gorgeous. Her thick brown hair even longer, but straighten and neatly done. Her eyebrows were still dark but not as bushy; she must have trimmed them. A respectable amount of makeup around her big brown eyes. She wore jeans and a conservative sweater that hugged her perky breasts beneath.

I stood up and hugged her immediately. I said, “I’ve missed you.” I noticed she broke the hug pretty quickly. She looked around at the others waiting for a table, seeing if she knew anyone.

Once we got a table, she told me why she was acting so strange. “So it’s not against the rules or anything for us to have dinner. But I did sign myself out of my dorm that I was staying with a married couple that lived off campus. And the RA can call them and check out me. No worry. They’re cool and will vouch that I’m with them, because they think the rules are a little ridiculous too, but I just don’t want to see someone I know. It could be a little awkward. Anyway, how are you? I’ve thought about our time this summer a lot.”

“Me too,” I replied. Laying and looking up at the bright stars, sneaking around after check-in, making out in random buildings, snuggling under a blanket, slipping my hair into her panties and feeling her soft pubic hair, the way her hand felt around my shaft.

I asked, “What feelings has our summer brought up?”

She looked at me nervously, “Guilt. I’ve prayed a lot about it.”

“Oh. You regret what we did,” I asked. This visit was not going as planned.

“No. No. No. I don’t regret anything we did. I had a lot of fun this summer. I feel guilty because I wanted to take it further.” She kept her eyes from looking at me as she told me.

I replied, “Don’t feel guilty! It’s a natural urge. You were drunk and I didn’t want to take advantage. You might feel even guiltier if we did it.”

She looked up at me, naughtiness glimmering in her brown eyes, “I’m not drunk now, and I still want to do it.”

Oh fuck. I asked, “Really?”

She bites her lip and whispers across the table, “I touch myself at night and imagine it’s you. I want you to be my first.”

The rest of the dinner I couldn’t think about anything else. I told her what hotel I was at. She said she would meet me there, but first she had to check in.

Waiting in the hotel room, I was nervous. Not about the sex. I was sure that would be great. We were so comfortable with each other. I was nervous that she wouldn’t show. Her thoughts would convince her that this was a bad idea. Her body was meant for her husband, not some fling from summer camp.